Bottom of the bottle
by Pinkjimmychoos
Summary: What happened between Morris and Chloe? Their crumbling marriage, their rekindled relationship and the leadup to Days 5&6 spoiler alert for day 7! Angsty as always.


**Bottom of the bottle**

**A/N:** One shot- my first (short) story- cos my other's are too freakin' long and I wanted to see if I actually _could_ write something as a one-off because I really envy those who can! This idea's been in my head for a while so thought I'd run with it. What happened between Chloe and Morris- early in their relationship and between seasons 5 and 6?

**Disclaimers:** They aren't mine, I'm just borrowing them. Not sure if I could put up with someone as temperamental as Chloe all the time anyway, god love her.

**Rating:** T for language and uncomfortable situations.

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He'd been an alcoholic for three years before she finally ended their marriage. She'd spent so long putting up with the bullshit from him, his constant lies, the arguments… finding him slumped in front of the sofa with a half-empty bottle of vodka when she'd gotten in from work on an evening, that he was honestly surprised she hadn't asked him to go sooner.

Once he'd hit her, over a stupid meaningless argument, forgetting to take the trash out or something else just as bloody pointless. Somewhere amongst the shouting and raised voices, it had escalated. Booze had started to make him aggressive, only this time he took it out on her.

Only once, but that one time had been enough.

She'd held her hand to her face in fear, as tears had welled in those blue eyes of her that had looked at him so accusingly- shocked and broken.

"Darling I—" he had stared in horror at the outline of his hand imprinted on her delicate skin and had finally come to his senses. He couldn't even begin to try to justify or excuse his behaviour. Nor did he want to.

"Get out."

"Chloe I---" apologies seemed so trite yet desperation compelled him to hold her, to make her forgive him, to understand that he'd not meant it.

She pushed him away. He was numb with grief, clouded by alcohol.

"Get the hell out. I can't take this any more. You crossed the line. I want you to leave, now."

"I'm sorry…" he whispered, defeated, as she'd finally turned her back on him and their marriage.

She turned to look at him, her face expressionless but her eyes conveying her pain and sadness at this new predicament. New, yet not entirely unsurprising. She'd seen it coming, she'd have been blind _not_ to. "I know you are, Morris. But 'sorry' just isn't good enough any longer."

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The first time he'd drank to excess was after he'd been laid off from work at his electronic and control systems engineering job when the company had suddenly folded. Stressed and trying to alleviate the unfamiliar boredom, he'd taken to going to bars with some of his old work colleagues whilst they scoured the job vacancies in the newspapers. Sometimes he hit the bars at around lunchtime, didn't get home till after _she_ did late on an evening.

He never realised what he was doing to her, what his drinking was doing to _them_, until it was too late.

Some nights he got home from some crappy bar, and didn't even make it up stairs because he passed out on the sofa, or in the hallway. Once he woke up at 5:00 in the morning with his head halfway down the toilet, reeking of his own vomit and stale beer. Shame crept in, yet the addiction already had him in its grip. He felt he'd found kindred spirits in his old work mates who were all as irked as he was to be so unexpectedly unemployed and didn't realise that he was distancing himself from Chloe, the person he _should_ have been confiding in, until they were so far apart it was impossible to bridge the gap.

On the nights when he _did_ make it up to the bedroom, he could recognise, even through his drunken haze, that she'd cried herself to sleep again. The pillow was damp with her tears, and she shrunk away from him in bed, disgusted whenever he tried to hold her, slurring her name.

They never made love anymore.

Booze had killed any shred of a libido on his part and he was pretty sure he'd probably be just as much of a failure in the bedroom department as he had been at his career.

He forgot Valentines Day, their anniversary; the worst time was when he forgot her thirtieth birthday and she didn't even yell at him when he remembered three days later. She just looked at him silently, something not dissimilar to pity in her eyes as she set the card on the mantle.

The pity was the worst part. He could take the yelling.

He began provoking her into arguments, feeling shitty that _he_ couldn't even get a job, that _she_ was the main breadwinner in the family. It was even worse when she got a promotion to the Counter Terrorism Unit in Los Angeles. He felt like he'd failed her completely.

The times when they did speak, she was full of talking about her new job, the people she worked with… was she _trying_ to make him feel bad? Jealousy and resentment crept in- he couldn't believe that he was stupid and pathetic enough to be jealous of his own wife.

The chasm between them grew into an empty void. A black hole. They no longer communicated; barely saw each other, which he was pretty sure she preferred. The only way he figured she was still living at home at all was by the terse notes she left on the coffee table: _dinner's in the oven… working until 6:30… my parents are coming for dinner tonight, please don't be late…_ so on and so forth. 

The night he hit her though, realised it was time for him to clean up his act. Everything had gone too far. What the hell had he been thinking?

He left their cosy, comfortable apartment and crashed on a friend's sofa in their threadbare condo. Salvaging any remaining shreds of his pride he took an IT technicians job for a computer company on an evening and got a job in a shoe store throughout the day. The pay for both jobs combined was barely even _half _of what he'd earned before, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that he needed to show Chloe how sorry he was, for what he'd done to her, what he'd done to them. He started attending AA meetings three times a week, calling his sponsor whenever the temptation to drink again got too strong.

She wasn't buying his apologies, filed the divorce papers on account of 'irreconcilable differences.' Even more of a jolt to his system: he'd been convinced that they could work through their problems. He loved her. He needed her.

He begged with her for one more chance, _pleaded _for her to change her mind, but she sat him down, bluntly told him right out that she just didn't trust him anymore, and that he'd scared her. He'd _hurt_ her. She was cold, defensive, and so different from HIS Chloe that he saw that day what he'd made her into.

The words were like a knife to his heart. That day was the worst of his life. He hit rock bottom.

What had killed him the most though, was that she said that she'd always be there for him "as a friend." When he sorted his life out again though. Until then, he was on his own.

He could never just "be friends" with the woman that he loved.

He'd fucked everything up.

He figured it was too late.

She was like a butterfly out of its chrysalis once they divorced. She lost the weight she'd piled on through comfort eating, replaced the dowdy suits with the designer ones he'd always offered to buy her but she'd never wanted to wear on account of having no confidence about the way she looked.

While she blossomed, he sank into a depression, trying to fight the demons that threatened to pull him back into the darkness. Dense black clouds constantly loomed over him, threatening to engulf him. He had trouble getting out of bed in a morning, it was an effort just to have a shower. To eat. The temptation to drink again was ever present, but in spite of that he was determined to conquer his demons.

He only fell seriously off the wagon once more. Big style.

The night the papers had finally came through a year later, he had drank himself into a stupor. Got rip-roaring drunk alone in some seedy bar, for he had very few friends left by now. Then he called her at stupid o'clock in the morning.

Some jackass answered her phone, cutting into his rambling voicemail. "Spencer" somebody.

She'd met someone else. Was dating, but not seriously.

That was pretty much all it took for Morris to stop drinking for good. A stark shock and with it the knowledge that if he _ever_ wanted to win Chloe back, he had to start behaving more like the man she'd married, and not like the drunk he'd become.

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They'd got back together after a particularly bad time she'd been going through at work. She'd turned to _him_ that day, to his amazement wanting his help.

The words had been like music to his ears, he'd not hesitated. Not because he wanted to win her back, he'd given up on that idea a while ago, but because he missed her and he wanted to prove to her that he was still a good guy and that he _could_ be trusted.

Seeing her that day, losing people close to her, sensing her pain, he'd pulled her close to him, offering a comfort that she willingly accepted. She'd been kind of dating Milo then, a long distance thing as he was in Denver, but seeing Morris back to being what he used to be had broken her rigid defences, he'd convinced her that it was worth giving them another shot.

So, hesitantly, she'd ended her brief relationship with Milo. They'd started dating again; candlelit dinners, movie dates and basking in the general togetherness that had drastically waned toward the end of their marriage. They even attended couples counselling- therapy sessions that he'd point blank refused to undertake in when he was in complete denial over his alcoholism.

It became slightly more complicated when _he_ got offered a job at CTU as well, she feared that it would mess everything up, that their burgeoning relationship would affect their careers. She didn't want to be the subject of gossip or rumours. Speculation was already rife as to why they'd split in the first place and Chloe was notoriously private and defensive when it came to anything that touched in anyway on her closely guarded personal life. Surprisingly his new job _didn't _cause any friction however and if anything only strengthened their relationship, they worked well together. A team. She was surprised she hadn't thought of him working at CTU sooner. It could have prevented a lot of grief for both of them, but what didn't kill you only made you stronger, he'd learned that already.

The day he moved back in to their old apartment, he promised that he would love her forever and that he would never _ever_ hurt her again.

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He did hurt her once more- that day; Valencia- the bombing… It all got too much for him. For both of them. Insults were hurled and cruel accusations were spat. The pressure got too much for both of them, culminating in a melting pot of emotions that eventually spilled forth.

He'd been tempted to drink again which he perceived was worse than anything else that day could throw at him.

He felt that she didn't trust him, that she felt him to be weak, a coward.

His beliefs were supported when she tossed a barbed remark at him in reference to him aiding the terrorist cell with manufacturing their weapons when he was kidnapped. A throw-away snipe at him, retaliation to his own frustration and anger, but it cut him to the core. Didn't she _know_ how terrible he felt about that? Could she not see that if he could go back and do things differently he'd _gladly_ sacrifice himself?

The only thing that had stopped him from _letting_ them kill him in that room was the thought of never seeing her face again.

But maybe she _was_ better off without him. He'd been wrong to ask her to take him back. He was the kind of person who would always do something to let her down.

So, stung by her verbal attack, yet surprisingly calm, he'd ended things between them, stomach clenching as if in a vice when he saw the anguish marring her face and the devastation in her eyes.

He, Morris O'Brien was lucky enough to have Chloe love him, yet once again he'd stuffed the whole bloody thing up.

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"I'm pregnant…"

He'd been stunned yet elated at the same time, his head spinning. After the kind of day they'd just had, _any _kind of good news was pretty unexpected, let alone the fact that he was going to become a father.

"I---" he gaped at her in disbelief, unable to prevent the smile from spreading on his face.

She'd cut him off with a hasty smile of her own, meeting his eyes reassuringly and he could see that she was scared too, but was trying to stay strong for his sake. Typical Chloe.

"At the risk of one of us saying something really stupid and spoiling the moment, maybe we should go back to work…"

Business as usual but deeper than that. This time it was going to be ok, he could feel it.

Her smile had conveyed everything.

She was happy.

And so was he.

He had Chloe; he no longer needed to seek solace in the bottom of a bottle.

They would make this work.

Together.

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End file.
